


Big

by yeaka



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug’s magic is used to increase Bilbo’s size.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queensusan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensusan/gifts).



> A/N: I generally like small things, but I’ll do the opposite for queensusan, who’s an amazing reader and asked for “giant Bilbo/dragon sex”.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It feels so _strange_ , even more so than traveling with dwarves, than turning invisible, than fucking himself on the spikes of Smaug’s crown. It’s the oddest thing he’s ever felt, and Bilbo’s head lolls back, mouth groaning weakly as the magic tingles all over his skin, underneath and along his veins—the magic’s never been on _him_ before, just _Smaug_ , but now it’s wrapping around his spine and stretching him like an unveiling scroll. 

His feet shift in the gold, more and more coins beneath his soles as he grows. His back is against the wall—a precaution he was warned of—and his fingers scrabble over it as they enlarge too much to properly feel the grain. He’s stretched up along the column at an alarming rate, the cooler wind of the chamber’s heights brushing over him, and he keeps his eyes tightly shut; he’s already dizzy, how much worse would it be to _see_ the world shrinking around him? He can feel Smaug’s warmth not far away, and that reassures him.

He’s going to be a _giant_. Is he going to hit the ceiling? Maybe his skull will bash into the caverns above and send pebble-boulders scattering into his hair. If he were wearing any clothes, they’d be tearing around him, ripping away, but instead, it’s just his flesh. The magic seizes him and makes him so much larger than he could even conceive, and it’s all Bilbo can do not to tremble. 

When the magic finally stops, recedes, Bilbo’s left gasping. He leans against the column behind him—an ancient, half-toppled wall he can now feel from side to side—for dear life. He feels something scaly brush along his middle, and he peeks one eye open, reeling at what he sees. 

Smaug’s stretched out in his hoard of treasure, tail idly stroking Bilbo’s belly, while Bilbo’s eyes both fly open. He ogles the world around him. He’s towering above it all. He still isn’t bigger than Smaug, but that hardly matters. He’s used to being tiny, and suddenly he’s _huge_. The gold beneath him is a rocky sea all running together, individual coins too small for his eyes to pick apart. Arches that looked unimaginably huge before could now just barely fit him. If he wanted to fit through the enormous hall burrowing off through the rock to his right, he’d have to duck so as not to hit his head. 

Bilbo takes a shaky breath and gives the reaction he knows Smaug’s waiting for, a useless: “Wow.”

In his peripherals, he catches Smaug’s smirk. Smaug’s head is as big as his, body roughly the same size, except that Smaug still has mammoth wings and an ever-reaching tail and neck. That tail wraps slowly around Bilbo’s waist, behind his back, and it tugs him forward; he trips away from the wall. These endless halls that used to seem so infinite are now a finite quantity—something he can see all the ends off, something he could easily walk from end to end. When he stumbles close enough to place a steadying hand on Smaug’s back, he covers a hundred more scales than he would’ve before. He pets Smaug in awe, marveling at simply being able to—he can stroke his lover’s entire back without it taking an entire day. Smaug grins lazily and asks, “Are you ready, little one?”

Bilbo just barely manages to chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore.” But he knows it’s Smaug’s magic, and it’s temporary. Good. He doesn’t think he could grow used to this. He feels like he’s missing billions of tiny details, now too small for his eyes to manage. He’s not built like Smaug, to see and sense every nook and cranny. He could be crushing the arkenstone now and not even know it. “As for being ready... I think you just ruined my mind. You’ll have to give me a moment.”

“A moment might be all you have,” Smaug muses. Bilbo frowns, but Smaug doesn’t push the subject more. Bilbo shifts to sit down in a lump of gold—an odd feeling; it quakes and moves beneath him, echoing landslides everywhere too miniscule for him to bother with. Smaug twists his large head to press a kiss to Bilbo’s lips, and Bilbo’s lips flutter open, acquiescing instantly. 

It’s strange to kiss a muzzle instead of a face. It’s _always_ strange with Smaug, one way or another; they’re a hobbit and a dragon: hardly a jigsaw fit. But this is the first time they’ve been on the same scale, and just the shapes are off, the texture of Smaug’s long lips odd against his own. Smaug’s tongue is much the same. Bilbo’s used to being wrapped in it, having his whole body stroked with it, being drenched in saliva or licked clean in one swoop, but here it is, no thicker than his own. It’s longer. It snakes between his lips and twists around the walls of his mouth, tracing his teeth and ensnaring his tongue. Bilbo moans and kisses Smaug until he’s scrambling at the back of Smaug’s spiked neck, stroking the incredible length and whimpering happily. Dragon magic is a _wonderful_ thing.

Dragons are so very impressive. Smaug finally pulls back with a wet smack of his lips, tracing sharp teeth in the meantime that never even came close to endangering Bilbo. Then Smaug turns around in the gold, while Bilbo dazedly stares after him. Between the magic and the heated kisses, Bilbo’s almost too light-headed to function. His brain doesn’t know how to process all the information one gets from being _huge_ —clearly, they’ll need more practice. 

For now, Smaug stretches out on all fours, holding his tail high in the air to expose his ass, stuck up just for Bilbo to see. Bilbo’s seen it before, of course, stared at it even, but not like _this_ , not with his own cock finally big enough to do something about it. He’s not even embarrassed about how his exposed organ twitches to life at the sight; he’s used to being exposed to Smaug. At the moment, Smaug is the one that’s even more exposed. His ruby cheeks are spread, strong legs flexed, heavy cock and balls fully unsheathed and hanging gloriously hard in the air. His furrowed hole is a dark mystery, once huge, now small and puckered, not even open enough for Bilbo to poke his finger inside. He licks his lips subconsciously, wondering what it tastes like. If he had time, if he knew the magic would hold, he’d lick every centimeter of his dragon’s majestic body until Smaug writhed with pleasure, and then he’d _finally_ get to pop Smaug’s cock into his mouth, sucking and humming and taking every last bit of it down. He nearly shivers with the want that broils up from just the thought alone—he _wants_ Smaug more than he has time to show. 

Getting to his knees behind Smaug, Bilbo gently brushes the tail aside so he can drape himself over Smaug’s back, right between giant, spread wings. He presses a kiss to the back of Smaug’s neck, amazed at just how far he can reach, and his hands run down Smaug’s sides. “How am I going to open you?” Bilbo mumbles, because now that he’s got a cock this huge, he feels the responsibility.

Chuckling, Smaug purrs, “In the interest of time, I think magic will suffice.” And without even looking, Bilbo knows what’s happening—Smaug’s channel is stretching, wetting, preparing itself to take Bilbo properly. He adds silkily, “And the next time we grow you, it will be you that requires opening.” Bilbo nods, knowing Smaug can feel it. If there was a way for the magic to let him take Smaug and have Smaug take him at once, he would. 

He pulls back to watch as Smaug’s entrance twitches and parts, secreting a thick, white liquid. Bilbo doesn’t need any magic or even his hand to get himself ready—he’s rearing to go. He feels the time restraints, the lingering, impermanent veil of magic keeping him this way, and he shifts into position behind his lover. He holds his enormous shaft and pushes the bulbous head against Smaug’s crimson entrance, and a second later, he pops inside, hissing instantly. 

Oh, it’s _good_. Very good. He knew it would be, but that was nothing compared to the reality. It’s hot like fire, almost more so than what’s bearable, but Bilbo doesn’t mind, just moans and pushes deeper, thighs trembling in delight. He gets halfway and loses himself, leaning down to drape over Smaug, his arms wrapping uselessly around Smaug’s body. Smaug’s wings beat beside him, and Bilbo nuzzles into Smaug’s neck, whining in bliss. 

So _tight_. Impossibly tight—Smaug’s so huge—how could his ass be exerting so much pressure, sucking at Bilbo so wonderfully, squeezing and convulsing around his enlarged cock like this? By the time Bilbo pushes himself all the way inside, it’s all he can do to breathe. _Fuck_. He wonders stupidly if he’s the first hobbit to ever feel the inside of a dragon’s ass. It’s not like anything he’s ever experienced before, anything he could describe. Burning hot, rapturously tight, alive and pulsing and an aphrodisiac in itself. Smaug’s head leans back to press against his, and Smaug taunts lightly, “Are you going to fuck me or not?” So Bilbo nods and _does_.

It doesn’t take much effort, once he starts. He pulls half out and shoves his hips in, and he screams louder than Smaug does, but Smaug’s is a _roar_ that echoes around the hall and makes the floor quake. Bilbo’s body kicks in from there, doing the work for him, unable to stop—his hips start to thrust in with power to match their new size. He fucks Smaug hard, fucks him rough, merciless, while his own clouded head fogs over even more, the pleasure ricocheting right up all his veins. His cock feels so engorged, and Smaug’s squeezing down on it. Smaug’s scaly ass is bruising to Bilbo’s soft hips, only lightly padded with brown curls, but the soreness doesn’t discourage Bilbo in the slightest. He’s fucked himself on the hard angles of Smaug’s body enough that his ass is used to being beaten raw—his hips will have to learn. Hobbits have hardy crotches, whatever others might think. Sometimes he honestly feels like he was _built_ just for Smaug, and this is one of those times.

He finds himself near the edge before he’s ready—he wants to do and savour this for hours. But his stomach starts to tighten, his balls tingle, and he responds by shoving Smaug down into the gold, half astonished at his own strength and half too heady to care. Smaug simply pants happily and ruts his hips back into Bilbo’s cock, so Bilbo keeps grinding in, keeps fucking his beloved dragon with everything he’s got. He feels something wet and slick trace his lips, and he opens his scrunched-closed eyes to see Smaug nuzzling into his face. He opens his mouth for Smaug’s probing tongue, Smaug’s neck arched in a complete circle, and their mismatched tongues messily slip over one another as Bilbo pounds Smaug’s hips into their treasure. 

Smaug parts their lips jut enough to purr, “You enjoy this, Bilbo?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bilbo nearly growls, and he scrabbles under Smaug’s stomach, sandwiching his hand between Smaug’s pulsing erection and the gold. He wraps his fingers around the thick shaft and pumps while he fucks, determined to pull Smaug over the cliff he’s rapidly reaching. “Love being able to touch you like this, fit your cock in my hand...”

“Next time, it will be in your mouth,” Smaug suggest. “Or your pretty ass... or maybe I’ll fuck your hair, as you’re so fond of riding my spikes...”

Barely able to laugh with all the moaning and panting he’s doing, Bilbo hisses, “That’s only because they’re the only phallic part of you I can normally fit inside me...” Well, aside from the very tip of Smaug’s tail, or the scratched-blunt end of Smaug’s claws, which he also loves. He pictures Smaug’s monster cock rutting into his curls, and he doesn’t at all mind. He kisses Smaug again and whines, “Going to...”

But that’s all the warning he can give. His mouth breaks off in the scream of a lifetime, his balls tightening rapidly, load bursting inside Smaug’s still-pulsing ass. It sucks everything out and seems to stroke Bilbo’s spilling dick, milking out more and more. Bilbo grinds himself in to help and keens loudly, so enraptured that he’s barely in control of his body. He’s filling Smaug with his seed, and the next thing he knows, Smaug’s spilling hot, sticky dragon cum all over his fingers. 

Bilbo groans and helps pump it out, and he doesn’t want to move, not ever, not even after his cock flags, still trapped in the deep confines of Smaug’s body. But Smaug’s tail wraps around his waist again and gently pulls him away, and he slides out with a dizzying emptiness. 

He understands why a moment later. The magic rushes through him again, and he feels it take a hold of him, swirling into his head before the orgasmic haze is even over. He can feel his body shivering and retracting, shrinking back down, and he watches the world swim before him, a dancing mass of colours that grows exponentially in every direction.

And a few seconds after that, he’s lying in the usual bed of coins, back to his normal size, naked and reeling and panting, eyes staring blankly up into the darkness as the magic slips away. 

He sees the massive pink appendage coming, is hit with a bead of spit the size of his arm, and is promptly licked across his entire midsection with one easy swipe. 

Smaug looks down at him fondly, and amidst the blur of exhaustion, Bilbo manages to smile back.

“Have a good time?”

“Awesome.”

He’s scooped up in his dragon’s claw and nestled safely against Smaug’s head before he finally passes out, content in the knowledge that _he just fucked a dragon._ Best use of magic _ever._


End file.
